


Yours and Mine

by PBJellie



Series: South Park Kink Meme Requests [11]
Category: South Park
Genre: Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Eric shares a room with Butters in their last year of college.





	Yours and Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the South Park Kink Meme:
> 
> Anything Buttman

 

Eric understood sex. It was easy to grasp. Be the one putting your dick in someone's mouth; don't be caught with a dick in your mouth. Simple.

He didn't chose to be celibate, but here he was, a practical virgin in his (second) senior year of college. It wasn't his fault, neither part. His history teacher last year had taken offense to the idea that maybe, just maybe, the Holocaust wasn't that bad. She didn’t want to hear an opposing viewpoint, a typical liberal at a typical liberal school.

He had the same problem with women. They wanted him to buy the cow for a sip of milk.

Ridiculous.

He'd face fucked Antonio Banderas, more than once, and then there was the time he stuck his dick in Butters mouth.

He smiled, recalling the memory. Of course Kyle had tricked him, he snarled, nose wrinkling in disgust. Goddamn, Jews and their trickery. There was no gay polarity, and it certainly couldn't be reversed.

Butters was a flaming homosexual, anyways. Cartman had only agreed to be roommates with him because he felt bad. Butters was too stupid to stay closeted.

Butters was dumb, but what was new? Cartman had stepped in and saved him after an incident freshman year. Apparently, Butters told the whole locker room he was a little bicurious. He'd come back to the dorms with a black eye and blood dripping from his nose. After his roommate requested a change, Eric, being a compassionate friend, took his spot for the low, low price of a hundred dollars and two months worth of laundry.

Butters still did his laundry.

“Eric, you're looking at me real funny,” Butters blushed, looking down at his feet that dangled off of the bed. He had kitten socks on, with a thin pink scalloping around the tops. How hopeless.

“I wasn't looking,” Eric shrugged. “You're nothing to look at. Maybe for a laugh, but do you see me laughing?”

“No,” he bumped his fists together, like they were still in the fourth grade. Butters had filled out a little, adding a couple of inches to his scrawniness, but had otherwise remained unchanged. “I'll try to be funny, next time. I like to make people happy, you know.”

“That's why you're gonna be a nurse. I know, don't make me repeat it. It makes me sick to my stomach.” The pussification of men, he scowled. Butters was contributing to the downfall of man by being a nurse.

Though he had to admit he'd look nice in a candy stripers uniform. Skirt high above his knees, showing off thin blonde leg hair. It was almost invisible, if you didn't look for it.

Eric was unsure how he'd conjuered that detail, honestly. That whole perverse image was just another sign that men shouldn't be nurses. Leave the caretaking to women, real women, not just soft men in drag.

“This class is real hard, gosh darn,” Butters looked at the book on his pillow, working his lip between his teeth. “I don't want to retake it, again, but I'm just not getting it.”

“Cause it's a girl class, taught by a woman, duh,” Eric said, leaning back on his bed. Sharing a room with such a powderpuff was a pain in his ass. Butters had two types of face wash in the shared bathroom, two. Eric had never seen him get a pimple, just the usual chap of his lips, skin flaking away from being gently raked through his teeth.

Eric wondered what would happen if someone bite him there. Would his lips be sensitive or calloused? He imagined sensitive, the way his face scrunched inwards when he thought, like his teeth were hurting. Eric's teeth would hurt him more. Show him what real pain was. Toughen him up, if you will.

Boy, did he need toughening.

“I guess so,” a delayed response as Eric laid back in bed, imagining Butters lips. Maybe they would bleed. He'd seen that before, a little trickle down his chin. Never enough to make a real mess. Never.

Eric hummed a response, sliding himself under the blankets. As he rearranged himself, he realized that he was hard. Probably from thinking about all the hot women nurses, that had to be it.

It certainly wasn't from thinking about how Butters slept shirtless, and was somehow virtually hairless on his chest. Maybe he shaved. Come to think of it, maybe he shaved his legs, too.

Did he shave his balls? Eric moaned, palming himself through his gym shorts.

He bet he did. They'd be clean and pert, not like Eric's. Like lady balls, if ladies had balls. He slipped his hand underneath his waistband and rearranged himself, nails scraping his balls in the process. They were not clean shaven, they weren't ever shaved.

His hand moved to his shaft. It must have been all the thought of nurses- lady nurses, only ladies, that got him all riled up. It certainly wasn't Butters bare ass while he shaved himself in the shower. He thought of Butters, carefully bent over, one leg hiked against the wall as he carefully ran a razor across his nutsack. He pumped faster, imagining Butters nicking himself, howling in pain as Eric sat on his bed.

It didn't take much longer, he laid there, breathe coming out in raging pants, until he finally came with a soft moan. He wiped the sticky mess on the bottom set of sheets.

Butters would wash them, soon.

“Are you,” Butters faltered “were you?” He stopped, running his tongue over his cracked lips. “Did you take care of your friend compass?”

Eric wanted to laugh at the stupid euphemism, but instead he got angry.

“Dammit, Butters. I was having a private moment. You can't just intrude on a man's private time like that. Rubbing one out in your bed is the last bastion of American freedom,” Eric huffed, not leaving the bed.

“But it's my room, too,” he peeped out. Eric looked and his pink socked feet still hung over the bed.

“That's just semantics. It's my room, mostly.”

“Well, okay Eric. Whatever you say,” Butters smiled.


End file.
